


Basins

by fandomlimb



Series: Skam Poetry [1]
Category: SKAM (Norway), SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomlimb/pseuds/fandomlimb
Summary: A poem written for Skam Fic Week - Day 2 - bed sharing prompt.





	Basins

**Basins**

**_i. Fredag 28.10.16 kl 21.21_   
** There are basins in my bed where your body is.  
Sheets shift; they make way   
for the press of your limbs,  
as you lift me, the small of my back   
arcing skyward, a capsized boat,   
willingly overflowing.  
Like Moses parting the waters,   
you make miracles with just one brush   
of your fingers—long and ivory—tickling my skin.   
Red seas could burn  
under those long white fingers.  
Play me again and again.

 ** _ii. Lørdag 29.10.16 kl 15.15_**  
There are basins in my bed where your body is.  
It knows how to make room for you,  
even before I do.  
If I’d laid like this before with anyone else,  
I’ve forgotten it.  
You’ve made history irrelevant.

 ** _iii. Søndag 30.10.16 kl 9.32_**  
There are basins in my bed where your body was;  
dried out, empty vessels, secret lost chambers  
housing precious jewels in a tomb.  
I reach for you and find a feather instead;  
it escaped from my pillow and spins  
like summer’s last dandelion puff.  
How easy I am to evacuate.   
I’m a breath of smoke, fog on a mirror.  
My tears are like dew drops. I evaporate.

 ** _iv. Fredag 25.11.16 kl 18.26_**  
There are basins in my bed where your body is,  
my blue and beige striped sheets twisting  
like a riverbend, like an ocean eroding  
pebbles into grit. We build castles   
and watch the tide take them.  
You make me a new miracle:   
when I ask you to stay,  
you stay.

 ** _v. Fredag 2.12.16 kl 20.30_**  
The hotel sheets are crisp and starch-stiff.  
We warm them, tease them out of their corners,  
but they scratch like rug burn.  
This will leave a mark.  
This will hurt.  
They are cold by the time you leave me alone.

 ** _vi. Lørdag 10.12.16 kl 8.10_**  
There are basins in my bed where your body is.  
Be gentle, I tell it. Wrap yourself around him,  
let him sleep and keep him warm.  
I relearn the landscape of your skin.  
Your eyes are like bruises.  
Let him in, let him in.

 ** _vii. Always_**  
There are basins in our bed, where our bodies belong.  
We’ve carved our places in them,  
like a sculptor eeking miracles out of marble,  
an angel out of clay.  
Only time can do this  
and we’ve all the time there is.


End file.
